


Simple Choices, Difficult Decisions

by Missy_dee811



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Action & Romance, Adventure & Romance, Avengers Vol. 5 (2013), Espionage, F/M, Fake Marriage, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Marriage of Convenience, Natasha Feels, Natasha Romanov Feels, New Avengers Vol. 3 (2013), POV Natasha Romanov, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Relationship of Convenience, Some Plot, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 22:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12640122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy_dee811/pseuds/Missy_dee811
Summary: He flipped through the dossier as she went into detail. After a few minutes of standing, he offered her a chair. She turned down the offer. “I should be going, really. You were in the middle of something and I –”“–Came over to proposition me,” Tony finished for her.





	Simple Choices, Difficult Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write smut but plot happened?

It had started simply enough.  _Wasn’t that how these things always started? Simply_. It didn’t matter now. She had been a fool once.

 

Her boots clinked as she walked down the long, wide corridor. The harsh fluorescent lighting made her skin look sallow. She looked down at her fingers, clutching the dossier in her hand. She had a plan in place, but she needed help.

 

As she read and reread the file, she thought of people the she’d ask, quickly coming to the realization that she knew far too few who could help. One by one, she started crossing off their names.

She thought of Clint.

Clint, her first partner in this life. He would be a great help but he came with baggage.  _They all come with baggage, Natalia. You come with baggage_. There was too much love lost between them. She couldn’t risk falling into bed with him again.

She’d have to be willing to risk falling into bed with… _someone_. The whole mission rested on that.

She hated putting herself in these situations. She read the dossier again:  _newlywedded young couple, mid-30’s_. The woman was described as  _slim_  and  _redheaded_. The man was described as  _blond_  and  _muscular_. There weren’t many eligible bachelors with experience in covert and stealth missions who matched that description. At least, not ones she was willing to fuck if need be. She’d be impersonating a newlywedded woman after all. There would be an expectation to uphold her part in this, her role in this game.

She groaned. The bruises from her last mission had faded but the pain was still there and it made her sore all over. She rubbed at her shoulder absentmindedly.

 _Steve would’ve been perfect_ , she thought, remorsefully. He fit the description, had experience in leading covert and stealth missions, but he no longer had the serum. He no longer looked as if he were 35-years-old.

_It would have been so easy._

_My face is too recognizable but his isn’t_ , she thought. Steve – when he wasn’t wearing the cowl – looked like so many other men. He could blend in.

Either way, Steve was much too busy. As Commander, he couldn’t go on unsanctioned missions anymore even if he had the time, which he didn’t. She could hear his protestations, his insistence on having SHIELD assist.

She needed to do this alone. Well, with  _one_  other person.

She sat in her room, listened to the laptop’s fan hum as it attempted to cool the overworked machine. She knew if she turned off the laptop, it would still be hot to the touch.  _Something – or should I say – someone’s feeling overworked_.

Bucky would jump at the chance, she knew. He was the right build: lean and muscular. His expertise was unparalleled, especially in that part of the world.  _It would be so easy. So easy to converse with him, to exchange information without having to revert to English and risk exposure._

 _He’d have to dye his hair, though a little peroxide would go a long way_ , she thought. _He’d have to conceal his arm. That could prove tricky._

It wasn’t an insurmountable obstacle.

 _Surely, he was busy_. Either way, the last time she had seen him, it had been as if there were something he wanted to say, something he couldn’t quite phrase.

She didn’t have time for that now. Didn’t want to deal with whatever it was he’d have to say. Didn’t want to deal with those undisclosed words. Better to leave it for some other time. She couldn’t act the part if he couldn’t and right now, she wasn’t sure he could.

She couldn’t ask Bucky. There were too many unanswered questions where he was concerned and she didn’t have time for them. Not now. She sighed and closed her laptop. Pushing a stack of papers to the side, she rested her head on her arms.  _I need to sleep_.

Running her hands through her hair to comb the tangles.  _My hair’s getting too long_. She twisted the ends before tightly wrapping it into a bun.

 

She stood before the large metal door and knocked. When he opened the door, he smiled softly. His eyes crinkling. The light from the hall flickered into the dimly lit room.  _This is a mistake_ , she thought, but she had already settled on this course of action. Had already considered the implications.

He said something about unexpected visitors but welcomed her nonetheless.  _This was too easy_ , she thought, and couldn’t say whether that scared her or not.

She had been in his lab before but the scope and size of it took her breath away. She wasn’t here to spy on him, wasn’t here to observe her surroundings.

She had to focus on something so she watched the way he moved. Took note of his mannerism, noted how excited he seemed to be. He paused, mid-discussion, to see if she was keeping up, or if he had lost her in his explanation. “I’m right here, Anthony,” she said. He just nodded and kept walking, slower this time.

Though she wasn’t surprised, she couldn’t help but note how his undershirt bunched up around his arms as he spoke. He was so animated, freely gesturing; a body full of motion, of movement. As they approached his worktable, she could see the discarded dress shirt hanging behind his chair.

Though she shouldn’t have been looking, she couldn’t help but note how low his slacks hung a little lower without a belt to hold them in place.

_Natalia, focus._

“Tony, I need your help,” she said, unintentionally cutting him off.

“With what,” he said, not the least bit bothered by her surreptitious interruption.  

She smiled and held up the file before passing it to him. “Would you like to be my husband for a week? We’ll have to fly to Latveria.”

He took the file from her and returned the smile, mischievously. When he spoke, his voice was low and serious. “Are you sure, Tasha?”

“Yes,” said Natasha, more to herself than to him but he couldn’t know that.

He nodded. He spoke with the utmost sincerity when he said, “Then I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“One week,” she said, holding up a finger. “We just need to impersonate a married couple for one week.”

He flipped through the dossier as she went into detail. After a few minutes of standing, he offered her a chair. She turned down the offer. “I should be going, really. You were in the middle of something and I –”

“–Came over to proposition me,” Tony finished for her.

She smiled. “Well, everything I know is in the dossier. Read it over. We can discuss it on the flight.”

As she turned to walk away, he reached for her hand. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“I know how hard it is to ask for help,” he said, closing the file and gazing into her eyes.  _Had she known they were so blue?_  Surely, they had always been the same color.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, turning to leave.

The next day he waited for her outside the Tower, leaning against the building. His carry-on beside him indistinguishable from anything one might find at a department store. She had advised he dress modestly. They didn’t want to raise any suspicions.

She teased him for packing more than she had but he just ducked his head and laughed. “I come prepared,” he said, his eyes crinkling. As he spoke, he pulled out his gold aviators, and placed them before his eyes, obscuring the rising sun. She had seen him do this so many times – behind cameras and locked doors – but it had never occurred to her that he did this to hide behind polarized lenses. Just one of the many armors he wore.

He had settled on a pair of dark wash jeans, that leather jacket he seemed to favor when he went for bike ride, and a deep red sweater. It showed off his collarbone.  _He looks good_. She wouldn’t say that to him though.

He had dyed his hair. The color was enough to make it stand out. If she didn’t know him, he wouldn’t have looked like himself, though he styled it the way he normally did. His tousled curls looked good.

Most people only thought of him in one of two suits: a three-piece or an armored one. Yet, standing before her, he seemed to conceal himself more than he did in front of a boardroom or an army of Skrulls.

 _He’s nervous. I make him nervous._ She had reached out to touch his cheek. He gave into the touch without hesitation.

“You shaved.” It was jarring to see him clean shaven.

“I did,” he said pulling down his sunglasses, watching her intently, searching her face. She wasn’t sure why.

“You said I needed to blend in.”

Natasha nodded approvingly. They were silent for a moment. The silence hung between them, occupying a tangible space. One or both would have to move sooner or later. One or both would have to speak. When they did, the space between them would shrink.

She could feel herself closing the gap as she moved to stand before him, inches away. She couldn’t say what compelled her, but before she knew it, she was running her fingers along his jaw. He didn’t move, his breath didn’t hitch. It was, as if, he had expected the motion, though she couldn’t have known why. 

“I didn’t know you had dimples.” She studied him. He looked a little younger clean shaven, not as rough around the edges.

“I didn’t know you liked dimples,” he said, rather shyly.

 _We really shouldn’t be standing outside the Tower, flirting like this_ , she thought.

He sighed. As if he could read her thoughts, he picked up his carry-on and started walking. She followed closely behind. The quietness from before still present but not as palpable. He wasn’t as tense.

She hadn’t told anyone where they were going but she was sure he had. He couldn’t afford to leave for a whole week without mentioning it to someone. She didn’t ask though. It wasn’t her place.

It could be.

 

They walked to a corner, a few blocks from the Tower, and hailed a cab. This was their first test. The cab driver didn’t recognize them. There was traffic on the way to JFK but they had expected that. Much as they expected Thanos’ return or Doombots circling the sky overhead. In this city, it was inevitable.

Tony didn’t comment on the change, on the way she slipped into a Russian accent. He fell into character, as she had hoped he would, and responded to her questions in Russian. It only caught her off guard for a moment. He didn’t use it much around her, not when they were around the other Avengers. 

They spoke the whole way. Their tone light, casual.  _Simple_. As simple as anything was going to be this upcoming week.

She could do this for a week. Two, at most. It was fine. She shouldn’t read into it. 

 

As they were hashing out the details of their mission, Tony had mentioned flying his private jet. He attempted to use his brand of persuasion on her. She laughed. “I think you’re forgetting my training, Tony. You’re going to have to try harder than that to get me to acquiesce.”

He raised his hand in defeat. Vindicated, she said, “Good. We’re flying commercial.”

They argued over seats. Tony had wanted an aisle but Natasha had wanted a window seat.

“Don’t you have an assistant who does these things for you,” she said in a bout of frustration. Natasha shut her laptop and tossed it onto the pillow next to her, careful to avoid missing Tony, who was lying on the duvet, next to her. His head resting on her thighs.

She leaned her head against her wooden headboard.

It should’ve been weird, having him in this space with her.

Tony laughed, turning onto his back. “And what? Miss doing this with you?” She took a pillow from behind her back, and hit him with it. He cowered behind his arm, laughing as she hit him.  

“You’re spoiled,” she said, crossing her hands over her chest. He twisted onto his side, using the pillow with which she had been hitting him as leverage. He ran his hand along her leg, up her thigh, over the covers. He felt warm to the touch.

She met his unwavering gaze. “Fine. First class it is.”

“You won’t have to sit next to anyone but me, I promise. I hope you’re okay with that.”

She smiled but didn’t reach for him as he sat up on the bed. His hair, disheveled from their pillow fight, was standing on end. He straightened his shirt before turning towards the door. Though he couldn’t see her, she kept her expression neutral.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning. I’d say don’t let the bedbugs bite, but I don’t know if they bite spiders.”

Before she could respond, he added, “Regretting this decision, aren’t you?”

“No. Not yet.”

 

 

She made a joke that caught him off guard and he laughed and tossed his head back against the headrest. Though he wasn’t loud, she turned to face him, willing him to keep his voice down. The others in their cabin had started to doze off. She was waiting for them to fall asleep so they could discuss more details.

“It wasn’t that funny.”

“I forgot how playful you are,” said Tony, lost in thought. Perhaps, he was replying to a different question. One she hadn’t asked, of which he may have thought.

She turned to face him, leaning against the window. “I could show you playful,” she said. Her long, auburn waves framed her face. The light from the setting sun just above the clouds made it glisten; the prickle of a dancing flame. 

He raised his brow. But before he could say anything, she had moved into his space, her hand running up his thigh. Her nails caught on the sweater as she ran her hand up his arm. He shivered but not from the cold. This was a test. He knew.

They were on a flight. Around them, some passengers had fallen asleep mere minutes ago. The flight attendants would be back soon, would catch them like this. Yet, he couldn’t seem to make himself care.

 _Am I really doing this_ , thought Natasha,  _thirty-five thousand miles above the Atlantic Ocean_.

She leaned in and kissed him, pulling on his upper lip. Her fingers sliding into his hair at the base of his neck as she turned into him.

“Do it again,” he said, breathless and feverish. She complied.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this on [Tumblr](http://viudanegraaa.tumblr.com/post/166348834951/simple-choices-difficult-decisions-part-2).


End file.
